A Learning a Day

(1) Isabel Wilkerson’s book “Caste” is a recent read that I’ve thought about a lot. It is fascinating to dig into the history of a place. I’ve had some insight into the institution of slavery in the United States. But, there’s nothing like the kind of insight a seasoned reporter brings.

It was particularly powerful for me as she draws parallels to the treatment of Jews in Nazi Germany and the treatment of Dalits in India. She makes the case that calling this “racism” is a simplification. Caste systems go deeper than that.

Stories about caste in India always sadden me. That’s not just because of the heartbreaking stories. They remind me of our collective stupidity and our unwillingness to learn from experience.

Most Indians – regardless of caste – were treated horribly by the British during the years of the British occupation. And, yet, despite all the shared humanity that helped us get through that experience, we didn’t take those lessons forward.

(2) While Isabel Wilkerson focuses on these 3 caste systems, the truth is that caste exists everywhere. Just like other popular western exports, a caste-like hierarchy based on skin color has become the most popular kind around the world. But, there are other systems too. When I lived in Saudi Arabia for 10 months, the dominant caste was Muslim for example. And, if you’ve traveled around the world without a western passport, the global immigration system will never fail to remind you about the importance of the color of your passport, your accent, and the color of your skin.

(3) At its heart, caste systems are about pecking order. We attempt to establish pecking orders wherever we go. Then, we go to crazy extents to maintain them.

This isn’t just true about nations. It is true about any human group. It is likely such pecking orders exist where we work – some function is the equivalent of the “dominant caste” and does all it can to preserve its status.

(4) It is hard to empathize with groups below the pecking order if you haven’t been there. That’s part of the human condition too. Reading stories in Isabel Wilkerson’s book is one thing. Experiencing it every day is another.

We live in the San Francisco Bay Area. This place likely has more immigrants per square foot than most places on the planet. And, yet, even in a place where we are not the lone outsiders, we experience situations that remind us of our status in the hierarchy.

This week, it was getting honked and told to “get out of the way” in a parking lot as we were unloading our bikes and kids. Last week, it was being told what to do in a car wash. We have a long catalog of these experiences. It is nearly always an older white/caucasian man who assumes he has the authority to tell us what we should do and how we should behave.

If this is our experience in the Bay Area, I can only begin to imagine the daily slights many others who are lower in the hierarchy experience. It is enough to drive you crazy.

And, yes, the frequency and intensity of these daily slights have likely gone down – on average – in the past decades. But, they’re still around.

(5) It takes a lot to see through false narratives of those who seek to use it for their gain. As Seth beautifully described, identity is often used against us.

We can hope for mature responses from time to time (this one warmed my heart).

But, I don’t see any way out of pecking orders and caste system. I think it is a side effect of our fallibility.

(6) While I don’t believe we’ll ever live in a world without arbitrary hierarchies, I do hope for progress toward that ideal. In a few years, the US will have as much of its history without slavery being legal as it spent with that institution.

I hope we’ll cross many more such milestones and move closer to a world where we spend more time thinking about what we have in common vs. what is different. Over time, maybe we’ll extend that to the plants and animals we’re blessed to share this space with. Before it is too late – at any rate.

The only way that will happen though is if we construct the kind of society that doesn’t gloss over our past. Our history is full of bloody wars and cruelty toward each other for arbitrary reasons. We have much to learn from all that bloodshed and suffering.

The more time we spend understanding our past, the more we will be able to understand the imperfections in our culture/community/country in the present.

No culture or country is perfect.

The problem is when we think we are.

Personality shows up in words.

Character shows up in actions.

“The first is making exactly what you want, for you.

And the second thing is making something for those you seek to connect and change.

Pursuing either is fine. Pursuing both is a recipe for unhappiness, because what you’re actually doing is insisting that other people want what you want and see what you see.” | Seth Godin, The Practice

I’ve attempted to make this point in the past in “writing for yourself vs. writing for others.”

As expected, Seth did so with a pithier and punchier articulation. :-)

A feature I’ve fallen in love with of late is the “Transfer to this device” feature on Microsoft Teams.

If you, say, start a call on Teams on your laptop and then open Teams on your phone, you see two options – “Add this device” or “Transfer to this device.”

And, if you choose “Transfer,” it seamlessly moves the call over to your mobile device.

I’m guessing the Teams product team analyzed the data on cross-device usage and noticed a significant proportion of users switching between these devices. It makes sense when you’re working from home and perhaps juggling other responsibilities during the pandemic.

It is a thoughtful feature – one of those that delights me every time I use it. A nice example of good product management.

As I work on becoming a better listener by interrupting less, I’ve become increasingly aware of this default impulse that results in a display of impatience.

Every time things get busy, this impulse sends a signal indicating that it is time to move things along.

The impulse isn’t wrong. It IS likely time to move things along.

But, I’ve learnt that interrupting someone to make that point is not a good option in most cases. It ends up being counter productive. We often have to go slow to go fast.

And, in the rare case where that interruption is warranted, it matters that we do it with an apology, clear communication of our intentions, and grace.

The seemingly urgent has a knack of getting in the way of the important.

It is hard to escape this because the “seemingly urgent” is a powerful force.

The approach I’ve found effective to counter its power is to ensure I always have clarity on what’s important.

That clarity comes from writing it down, revisiting it often, and recommitting to it every time I fail to act on it.

In effect, that means recommitting to it multiple times a day/week/month. :-)

We were in a panel discussion the other day when someone asked the question – “Should I be negotiating my salary as I head to my first job after graduate school?”

We shared two notes.

(1) It depends on the context. But, as a rule, is a good idea to bias toward asking – no ask, no get after all.

(2) The challenge, however, isn’t in asking for something. It is in answering the more important question – do I know what I want?

Operating with clarity about what we need makes it both easier to ask and paves the way for a more productive conversation.

Until a few months ago, I never deleted emails in my Gmail account. I changed this behavior last year as I realized I was approaching 80% of my 15 GB limit.

But, even if I started deleting email, I didn’t want the minor stress of looking at that ~80% full storage indicator everyday. So, I began deleting old email.

I started with searches for certain kinds of emails and deleted emails carefully. I realized the futility of this soon enough and began deleting entire categories.

As I clicked the option to permanently delete the first time, I wondered – “Am I going to regret getting rid of some of this email?”

When I asked myself the question, I ignored the fact that I hadn’t looked at some of these categories.. ever. The finality of deletion still loomed large.

I reflected on that moment today as I looked at my Inbox. It is lovely to see the indicator at ~30%. And, months after deleting all that old crap (it really was crap), I’ve not looked back.

We’re wired to hold onto things we have – clearly even when they’re as random as an email from Amazon in 2011.

It’s liberating to make subtraction a habit and learn to let go.

Jay: No, see this is exactly why we sweep things under the rug. So, people don’t get hurt.

Phil: Well, yeah, until you sweep too much under the rug. Then you have a lumpy rug… creates a tripping hazard…and open yourself up to lawsuits.

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I think of this exchange from time to time – many years after watching this exchange on “Modern Family.” This visual of things swept under the rug causing a lumpy rug and tripping hazard is genius.

It has served as a great reminder over the years to not disagreements and discontent fester.

Lumpy rugs can mess with relationships. They’re best avoided.

Ben, a friend, shared a story about his experience climbing a hill on his mountain bike. The slope was steep – so, he shifted to the easiest gear and kept climbing. He soon caught up with two bikers who were pushing their bikes up the hill, said “Hi,” and kept going.

The climb kept getting harder. So, he was relieved when he got to the top and glad he didn’t give up. When he looked back, he saw that one of the bikers he passed was just behind him.

Isaac, the biker, yelled “That was my first time pedaling up that hill man!”. He shared that he had grown up close by and had been to this trail many times.

“Do you know what they call this hill?” – he asked. “Sh*t hill! I saw you were riding and thought I should give it a go too. Thanks for the motivation!”

Issac had always been able to climb the “sh*t hill”. He just never tried because none of his bike buddies did.

Ben shared that this incident reminded him of the Henry Ford quote – “Whether you think you can or you can’t, you’re right.”

Indeed.